


Remember That Time...

by Expert_Amateur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, He didn't choose the romcom life - it chose him, Just Dave in general is The Drama (tm), M/M, POV Second Person, Parenthood, Pining, Romance, The only drama is Dave's inability to communicate how much he wants to kiss the boy, There will be no drama in my fluff fic, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Expert_Amateur/pseuds/Expert_Amateur
Summary: “I always thought you would hate me for leaving,” you say, bitter, “If anything, I hoped you would. Just so I could have more of a reason to not come back. So I wouldn’t want to.”“I didn’t. Ever,” John replies, leaning back to look out the window again. His hand is still on yours, thumb rubbing circles into your knuckles. “I moved on from then. I don’t think I’ve moved on from you.”--Dave Strider, a decently kept single parent, bumps into an old flame: The other father of his child.A self-indulgent love story with a glorious amount of pining, coffee shops, and a copious amounts of affection directed at children involving one of the world's worst kept secrets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **_Content Warning:_** _Trans (Male) Pregnancy_ \- Dave is a trans man who carried his child, Dirk Strider, to term and there are scattered references to it through this fic with the possibility of flashbacks outright displaying him pregnant and post-labor. The central focus of this fic, however, is his being a father - not the pregnancy.
> 
>  
> 
> _  
>  ((There may also be an optional read chapter(s?) of some fluffy smut, or it could be its own fic(s?) that is(/are) related to this. I'm still writing this fic and posting as I go so I'll let the audience decide!))  
>  _

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s…it’s great to see you again, Dave.” John smiles, sincere and, fuck it, handsome. When he raises his hand to you, you’re self-conscious about your own hand sweating._
> 
> _“See you later, Egbert,” you reply, shaking John’s hand briefly..._

 

> **8:13AM**

 

“Bro, wake up!”

 

You’re semi-aware, blinking out the haze of the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in near a damn decade. You squint at your phone when you pick it up, apprehension tensing your fingers as you risk morning-blindness to your phone screen.

 

It doesn’t manage to happen as dramatically as that. You check the time, an early 8:13am, and then swing your arms to turn to the midget who disturbed your rest.

 

“Dirk.”

 

“We’re late.”

 

You groan in response to the child being fractionally more mature than you before lunch time. You nod your head and get up, stretching your legs out and scratching at the blemishes on your back.

 

“Y’got your lunch packed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Teeth brushed?”

 

“Right after breakfast.”

 

“And Rose?”

 

“Went to work and left the car.”

 

“Sweet. I’ll go have a shower and get ready then.”

 

“Breakfast is on the stove, bro.”

 

“Thanks, kid.”

 

You get ready for the day within twenty minutes. You try to get ready quicker but you can’t rush perfection, and you can’t rush trying to make a good first impression. Rose isn’t around today so you’re in charge of covering your own ass, and that includes dressing it.

 

You eventually settle for a pair of nice fitting jeans and a collared button-up. Usually red would be the color of every day but you pick out plain white and match it with a red tie instead.

 

“We’re mega late now!” Dirk yells from downstairs. You can’t help but smile as you fix up your hair and make your way down.

 

“We’ll be fine. Ready for orientation day?”

 

“Only for the whole time you were in the shower.” The sarcasm on Dirk could only be because of Rose. You think you should talk to her but that’s what you sort of get for leaving him around her all the time.

 

“Let’s go, bud.”

 

Your breakfast is left on the unlit stovetop.

 

 

> **9:07AM**

 

So you’re almost 10 whole minutes late. You can tell by Dirk’s bottom lip puffing out that he’s pissed but he otherwise doesn’t show it. You feel like you taught him well with monotony and deadpan. You also, for a fraction of a second, think that that sort of shit is going to get him and especially you in trouble.

 

You both stand at the back of the hall as the orientation day assembly passes by like a slug. It’s boring and you have to stifle so many yawns. You and Dirk make a game of slaps, stifling snickers and keep the sounds of your game down. You both take full advantage of the times where there are applause breaks.

 

You feel like you should pay attention to what the principal is saying but you’ve been to elementary before and you remember the gist of shit as a kid. ‘Welcome’, ‘Behave, ‘Have fun’. None of these ever rang true while you were in school. Then again, when you were in school, school bullies were more than just a 90s film cliche.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch everyone standing up from their seats and filtering out of isles and further out through doors to accompany tiny kids to their first class.

 

Dirk looks around and his lip trembles and quickly grabs your hand. You give his small one a squeeze before picking him up in your arms. Your tie tangles in his jacket but you don’t care for a tidy appearance when he’s worrying about you leaving.

 

“You okay, little man?” you ask him. Communication. It helps. And Dirk recognizes help because he is suddenly attuned to your voice and even with his eyes scoping the area, his ears are only registering what you say to him.

 

“I don’t wanna go,” he says.

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t want _you_ to go.”

 

“I know.”

 

You pause.

  
“You might make some friends though, y’know? The kind you can bring over and they can sleep over at ours. Or you can sleep over theirs if I like them. Gotta get my stamp of approval after all.” You smile and even though he’s not facing you, you can see him smile as well. “And you get to learn all sorts of cool things, and maybe we can even get some extension work for you if you want. You don’t have to do too much if you don’t wanna.”

 

“I wanna learn! I wanna work!”

 

“Well then, we can go ask your teach what’s up and see what we can do with that big head of yours.” You flick his forehead with a grin and he giggles and it fills your chest with something warm and gooey and you love it so much.

 

“Let’s get to your class before we get lost because you know I can and will.” Dirk rolls his eyes, like he expects you to know where you’re going because it’s not that hard, but nods and shuffles out of your arms to get down.

 

You both tag along behind a group of parents and kids before recognizing a sign outside of a classroom that matched the little stamp on the back of Dirk’s hand. You tug him gently, pointing it out, and he frowns for a moment before being reassured by the gentle look you give him. You follow more parents and kids into the small room.

 

The teacher that addresses you all explains that everything is only introductory and that the groups aren’t set in stone as classes. That relieves you only a fraction because you don’t necessarily feel like interacting with some of the parents there. No doubt it’s rude to just make assumptions about people but the social paranoia you feel plagues you when you see parents that are friends with other parents.

 

And there you are.

 

Young, out of place, and one of the few very colored faces there.

 

One person looks at you curiously and you keep your head directed at either Dirk or the window, leaning on the back wall as the teacher made their rounds talking to different parents who no doubt had questions.

 

You honestly feel uncomfortable, even with your attempts to seem tidy. But what eases you is that Dirk doesn’t feel any of the discomfort that you do. A little girl hovers by his shoulder and asks for a colored crayon and Dirk nods politely and passes it to her before returning to his own drawing that you’re going to have to stick on the fridge.

 

When it’s your turn to introduce yourself to the teacher you can’t help but feel weary under their large personality. She’s very friendly, shaking your hand with a tight grip and large smile. You suppose that’s a good thing but even ask the teacher while you had them about alternate teaching methods and extracurricular activities. She seems a little surprised, ask you to elaborate, and you feel like you’re telling a devious secret by the way you want to make sure you don’t want other parents to listen in.

 

“Look, I’ll be straight with you: Dirk is...different,” you say slowly, “He can’t really socialize with his own age. We live in an apartment that doesn’t really have kids and I don’t have the money to send him to daycare so…Yeah. He’s a closed kid. And very sensitive. Sometimes he gets a bit overstimulated and-”

 

“I understand, Dave,” the teacher says with a softer smile than her introductory one. “I think I know exactly what you’re talking about. In fact, I think I might have personal experience with that one.” She winks knowingly and the weariness grows into tired relief.

 

“We do have extracurricular activities available that are more sports-aligned if you wanted him to wear himself out of an overstim? Or are you looking for more intellectual approaches?”

 

“Honestly, anything that engages him enough to socialize outside of me or his aunt would be amazing.”

 

“School is definitely a start then.”

 

“I thought it was sorta sink or swim.” You grimace.

 

“I’ll definitely find avenues for Dirk to get the most out of his first year of school. The first step is the hardest, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m sure you’ve seen a couple of first steps as a kindergarten teacher.”

 

“Not just for the kids either.” She smiles and you nod your head in agreement. She leaves after that, talking to the remaining few parents there while Dirk lets two other kids look at what he drew. The little proud flush in his cheeks makes you feel like you’re doing something right.

 

 

> **10:28AM**

 

At the end of the class session Dirk seems really happy. He babbles about how the girl he shared crayons with said that his drawing was ‘rad’ and that they talked about cartoons. The other kid has your approval with ‘rad’ alone.

 

It’s a small snack break with juice boxes, a piece of fruit, and a sandwich or wrap. You and Dirk would go ham on the wraps but you hold yourself back. They offer seconds for the kids and you wink at Dirk when he offers to get you another wrap. He’s too good to poor, old you. You clink juice boxes and enjoy spitting watermelon seeds at birds.

 

The day is quiet after that, save for the other kids chirping their happiness in the background. You nudge Dirk a little to socialize a bit, seeing a group play a kick-ball game, but he instead tugs you to buy his school supplies at the office and you can’t really disagree with a thing you should actually be doing. The shyness will wear off eventually, you feel, if only because Rad Girl waved wildly at Dirk from the field and Dirk actually managed to wave back.

 

The line isn’t too long to get supplies, and they accept pay-pass so that’s a huge plus to get out quick already. You select the basic pack, a uniform as well while you’re there, and you pay with a tap and leave. Dirk holds his things with a grin, excitement renewed now that he has new friends to start the school year with.

 

You both are talking about plans for classes and extracurricular activities when your eyes meet with someone else’s. It’s a moment that is slow and excruciating in your head. Familiarity passes both your face and the others instantly and you flinch before meeting their eyes again. They’re as blue as they used to be.

 

“Dave?”

 

Dirk looks at the two of you, confusion apparent on his face, before he pipes up.

 

“Excuse me, who are you?”

 

 

> **11:42AM**

 

“It’s…been a while,” John Egbert says, sitting beside you while his niece and Dirk talk.

 

“Yup.” You don’t know what else to say, sipping at your hot chocolate and looking down at your lap.

 

“How are you going?”

 

“Alright,” you reply with a shrug. You force yourself to say “How about you?” out of politeness.

 

“I’m good! Good…” John coughs awkwardly and there is no denying the tension between you. You’re glad Dirk isn’t near to sense it because that’d just make things more difficult.

 

“How’s Jade?” you ask.

 

“She’s in Australia with her eldest at the moment. I’m caring for Jane while she’s there,” John answers with a bit more sincerity that deflects the awkwardness. He looks at his niece with a smile. “She’s kept me busy but there’s never a lonely moment.”

 

“Man, I know that well enough,” you comment, smiling through the sips of your drink. You can feel John look at you and you try not to look his way to catch him staring, the corners of your mouth straightening out.

 

“So what class is Dirk in?”

 

“Leijon’s, most likely, and I’m hoping,” you answer.

 

“She’s very friendly and seems to genuinely love kids,” John replies, “I hope Jane’s in the same class. Maybe her and Dirk can be fast friends.”

 

He smiles at you like he’s trying to extend that friendship towards you too and you bite your lip.

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

There’s silence between you two again and from the corner of your eye you can see John lick his lips and open his mouth, just about to say something, but you stand suddenly and interrupt that opening line of conversation.

 

“We should go. We’re meeting Rose for lunch at 1 and we have to get through traffic,” you tell him, waving at Dirk to get his attention and gesturing your head so he knew you were leaving.

 

“Oh.” John looks disappointed, almost worried that he won’t see you again, and the pout and slump of his shoulders is all too similar to how he was in high school. “Pass on a hello for me, would you?”

 

“Sure,” you say with a shrug.

 

He stands as well and you notice more obviously how much time has passed between you. How much John has grown. His hair is still shaggy and windswept though a bit shorter than you remember, his face only discolored by patches of dark hair that kiss his chin and upper lip, and his overbite isn’t nearly as large as it was a little over a decade ago.

 

You catch yourself from staring too much and look down at your tie.

 

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around?” he says, and he almost sounds hopeful. He almost sounds pleading. And when your eyes meet his, you feel your cheeks flush and your legs buckle, a reaction only an amplified version of your high school self multiplied by time apart.

 

“Dirk and Jane go to the same school and might be in the same class. I’ll have no choice but to see you around,” you say with a small, crooked smile. Dirk’s by your side and holds your hand. You squeeze it gently.

 

“It’s…it’s great to see you again, Dave.” John smiles, sincere and, fuck it, handsome. When he raises his hand to you, you’re self-conscious about your own hand sweating.

 

“See you later, Egbert,” you reply, shaking John’s hand briefly before turning around and leaving with Dirk close by. You watch Dirk look back at John.

 

“Let’s go see your aunt, huh kiddo?” you say.

 

 

> **1:09PM**

 

“Rose, _please_ -”

 

“There aren’t that many options for you. There’s either moving away or confronting the situation. And you’ve already done the former.”

 

“How about we not go to a place neither of us want to go to. Because, looky here, it seems like that is where we are going,” you spit, rolling your eyes. You run your hand through your hair before rubbing your arm. “Neither of us expected this happening. What are the chances, y’know?

 

“Exactly. What are the chances? Very slim, that’s what,” she says with a small frown. “He doesn’t even know, and neither does Dirk. And if you told him the truth, he’s a child. He won’t keep it a secret.”

 

“He…could?” The frown on your cousin’s face makes you grimace. “I didn’t _mean_ it. Not really, anyway.”

 

“Do you plan on telling him who Dirk is?”

 

“Fuck. No. I already made that bed, Ro, and I plan on stubbornly laying in it,” you say, stabbing your fork into your salad. She looks at you, amused.

 

“A lot has changed and he sort of has the right. It’s not like you left on bad terms.”

 

“I left on the _worst_ terms. I _disappeared_. With only a voicemail. We can’t just go back to how we used to be.”

 

“Sounds like he may want to,” she says, pursing her lips in thought.

 

“Trust me, the ship has sailed and sunk. We…can’t be like that. Not anymore. It’s been years.”

 

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

 

“Then he needs a heart transplant. Big hearts are bad news bears.”

 

“Your ability to take the situation seriously always continues to amaze.”

 

“What can I say? I have to put up with the sarcasm you instill into my kid. Need to combat that somehow.”

 

She snorts and the topic is over for now, other conversations following being about work or the school. You enjoy the company while Dirk enjoys his spaghetti. You find yourself relaxing from seeing John for the first time in almost five years.

 

 

> **5:24PM**

 

You wake up to your phone buzzing and with a groan you shift Dirk out of your arms. You find it’s only Rose texting you that she’s picking up something for dinner and you had to give her suggestions.

 

Looking at Dirk you decide it’s for the best that you all have something that isn’t fast food. And you don’t think you can stomach McDonald’s at the moment, hungry but not enough for that on a weekday. So you reply with ‘ _Italian_ ’, knowing she’s not going to get shitty pizza from Pizza Hut, and throw your phone onto the rug next to you again.

 

You stifle a yawn and let it fill your chest as your eyes well up with tears of fatigue. You wipe them away and nuzzle Dirk’s head, letting him curl into you and mumble about how he’s hungry. You murmur that you know and rub his back.

 

The sun sinks and the sky is a dark, clear purple. The quiet atmosphere, still and serene, makes you feel even more tired but it also leaves a small pit of warmth in your chest. Though it could also be the four-year-old pushing all his weight onto you so you don’t move.

 

A few moments pass, the sky darkening to a star-filled black, before you sit up and go to the bathroom. You could fall asleep on the seat but scenes like that are for photos to show on kids’ twenty-first birthdays. You instead splash your face with warm water when you go to wash your hands, brushing the bags under your eyes and looking at them thoughtfully.

 

Dirk is knocking on the door, stating he needs to go next, and you mumble your acknowledgement and let your kid do his thing. In the meantime, you find a snackpack in the fridge and even if dinner is only a legitimate forty minutes away you are a grown adult and can satisfy your own dietary requirements how you like.

 

When Dirk comes out of the bathroom he does the same, instead getting his ziplocked cucumber pieces from the fridge and sitting at the coffee table with his crayons and recycled paper. How did you ever teach him to be so good?

 

You crash onto the couch behind him and switch on the news, picking up your phone from the floor and flicking through it while it goes on in the background. Occasionally you glance back up at the TV to see what’s being discussed, what’s new in politics and entertainment, what the weather is going to be like. The lilt of the presenter is calming and joins the symphony of ambient humming that the room brings when it’s just you and Dirk being lazy and relaxing before Rose comes back.

 

Like clockwork, she enters the apartment when the news finishes and ads play before The Simpsons makes its 6:30 timeslot.

 

“Dinner time,” she says, dropping her back at the door and kicking off her heels. Dirk nods and finishes a drawing before getting up to help Rose with the food. She smiles at him, saying, “What a gentleman,” and looks pointedly at you. You share a look with her. ‘ _How is this your/my kid?_ ’ Though it’s a thought shared in mild pride.

 

There’s alfredo pasta for you, bolognese for Dirk, and McDonald’s for Rose who stares until you drop the raised brow you had up at her.

 

The rest of the night goes easy.

 

The rest of the week is mildly rocky.

  
The days leading up to Dirk’s first day of school leaves you more anxious than your own kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A long-winded welcome lays inside this link.](http://robotentacles.tumblr.com/private/155246051153/tumblr_oj3qzdi1Na1r9ocgk)
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> Tl;dr: As a new trans dad, I hope y'all enjoy this fic loosely based on a fantasy world I hope comes true for me and my little family and please drop a comment as they make my day and also remind me to keep writing this one. x


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m a single parent, Rose. Single dad, specifically. Regardless of what side I wanna swing when I want to, not many people my age are into kids and having to play house. Most I could probably go with is a one night which I haven’t done ever and have no friends to go out with so guess I’m gonna be a nun.”_

> **7:42AM**

  


You’re up early, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the day. Dirk is leaving the nest. It’s something you joked about before but now it worries you. 

  


How is he going to be? He won’t have a panic attack, will he? What if he gets bullied? What if he doesn’t make any friends on the first day and gets really down about it and doesn’t want to come back?

  


What if you bump into John again?

  


The last question you asked yourself as you stared at the mirror was inevitable. You’ll have to see him. There’s a highly likely chance that his niece and your kid are going to be in the same class. There’s three classes for Dirk’s grade to begin with. 

  


After you spend a good while sorting out your appearance, you get to making Dirk’s lunch. PB and J sandwich with the crust cut, some grapes, a juice box, a zip-lock bag of Doritos, some cash just in case. The essentials to every kid’s lunchbox. 

  


When you knock on Dirk’s bedroom door to get him up you’re not surprised to see him entirely ready, uniform pressed and neat, if a little big, on him, and his bag next to his bed all packed with his books and pencil case. He turns to you with a small but proud smile and you don’t fight the urge to take a picture. 

  


When Dirk sees you pull out your phone for a photo-op, he straightens his back and stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying to look a little more nonchalant than he is. The shine in his eyes gives him away. As well as the toothy smile he doesn’t hold back.

  
Rose is still home, taking the day off to escort Dirk to his first day of school. And - you don’t tell her that you know - to also watch over you when the event of seeing John occurs. You don’t let it get the best of you. You’re going to be busy living in the moment for Dirk and for you.

  


“Breakfast?” Rose says, poking her head in. She smiles when she sees Dirk and when you turn to her you let her see that you are totally going to cry if you don’t get some distractions on. You and Dirk nod and she gestures her head toward the kitchen. 

  


Dirk dashes passed you and you let him, muttering to your cousin, “Did you actually cook or-”

  


“Excuse you, David, but I do know how to cook. And you know I do,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just scrambled eggs and toast with some fried bacon. A breakfast fit for a bouncy kindergartener and a father who is going to throw up, empty stomach or incredibly full.”

  


“Can’t screw up something easy like that,” you tell her, smiling in appreciation. She snorts and pushes you forward.

  


“Eat, cousin. I’ve had to handle you throwing up for almost a year; it’d be far too early if you start up again.”

  


“Hardy-har.”

  


> **8:20AM**

  


You are all on time to drop Dirk off. Fashionably on time.

  


You want to keep an eye on him, an urge to hover over him like a vulture until you know he’s safe in a classroom. But Rose holds you back, dragging you back when Dirk rushes to find a friend from the orientation day. 

  


Rose blends in comfortably with the scene, striking conversations with people she can no doubt read as other first-school-day parents like you. She has an eye for reading other people, even though she holds the social tact and competence of an umbrella.

  


You join her eventually. You slide by the usual assumptions of you and Rose being are together with witticisms that should leave the ears of children alone (which they do). A lot of Texas references. A few sarcastic declarations of undying love. A  _ Game of Thrones  _ joke here and there. 

  


It’s easy to be a little more yourself next to Rose, the normality to your abnormality. You’re not just an awkward, stoic asshole when she’s around. You’re just a little bit of an asshole with a really dumb sense of humor.

  


The socializing lasts all of thirty minutes and you feel your heart racing because it’s very exhausting pretending to want to talk to people. You still get it done and students eventually file into the school and your heart slows to a stop because it’s time for you to go for six hours for your kid to get an education.

  


“Aunty Rose!”

  


You and Rose both turn your heads to Dirk. He’s waving and running up to you and he doesn’t look as nervous as you feel. 

  


Even while you slouch and Dirk stands straight and tall he reaches just up to your hip. You remember when he was just up to your knees. The same ones you crouch down to so you can give Dirk a big hug.

  


“Love you, dad,” he mutters into your neck and you start to tear up, holding it back because you can’t do that here. In the car, maybe.

  


“Shit, kid, you’re supposed to save that for college or something,” you say, sniffing before breaking into a short cough of a laugh. Dirk shrugs but leans up to kiss your cheek and you mess up his hair, hand brushing through it before taking the back of his head and bringing his forehead to your lips.

  


“You have a good day and learn lots, alright? And if someone picks on you on the first day, feel free to give them hell.” Dirk smiles at you and he nods, turning around when you start to get back to your feet. 

  


He gives Rose a big kiss on the cheek and a hug before waving off the two of you and rushing into the building. You shudder a sigh and wipe your eyes. Rose holds up a handkerchief next to you and you take it gratefully. 

  


“Fuck, I’m old, Rosie,” you mutter, sniffing again and rubbing your eyes furiously.

  


“Yeah, you kind of are,” she replies. You snort and both of you laugh. “Let’s go get a coffee and some cake.”

  


“Your shout?”

  


“Old  _ and  _ a freeloader,” Rose says. You laugh again and let her guide you out. 

  


You forget that you haven’t seen John at all yet. You forget that was ever a worry at all.

  


> **9:12AM**

  


You haven’t eaten something so large and sweet since Dirk and it’s a familiarity that makes you want to cry heavily. But Rose doesn’t let you dwell long enough to complain about your child moving on without you. She keeps you occupied with talks of work, hers or yours, and also her girlfriend.

  


You like Kanaya. No complaints at all. Rose is happy, maybe happier, since seeing her. And you believe with all your heart that Rose deserves it after what she and your aunt did for you. Rose, however, always seems to want to believe in the end of the honeymoon period between her and her partner.

  


“I never noticed before how particular she can be and then absolutely blind to what’s in front of her,” Rose grouses, “I mean, she can notice a new addition to my jewellery but not read that I am completely at her whims, begging for a good ravishing.”

  


“Yes, Rose, keep this conversation PG-13 while also keeping in mind that I totally don’t want to really know the down and dirties between my cousin and her cool girlfriend.”

  


“Oh, I’m sorry, Dave, I forgot to relieve myself of these thoughts onto all zero of my trusted friends who is not my girlfriend,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I just need to vent that my girlfriend is incredibly attractive and equally incredibly daft as fuck.”

  


“Shit, dude. As fuck?”

  


“As. Fuck.”

  


“Sucks to be you,” you say, raising your latte mug and taking a sip. “Can’t say I feel sorry for your three-plus years of blue balls.”

  


“You would think having color co-ordinated undergarments would be enough of a hint.” Rose sighs, shaking her head in dramatic-dismay.

  


“What has the world come to?” You snort.

  


“When do you think you’re going to go back on the market, now that you have more free time with Dirk being in school?” Rose asks conversationally, or at least enough so it doesn’t sound like her personal struggles weren’t a segue into your own life. You shrug in response, an answer that apparently garners more elaboration.

  


“I’m a single parent, Rose. Single dad, specifically. Regardless of what side I wanna swing when I want to, not many people my age are into kids and having to play house. Most I could probably go with is a one night which I haven’t done ever and have no friends to go out with so guess I’m gonna be a nun.” You stir your coffee, free hand propping your head up. 

  


“You have plenty of friends, just none of which you socialize with enough to want to go for a night about town with,” Rose says, “And I’m only curious about your situation considering your child is now in school and that child’s  _ other father  _ is in the general vicinity too.”

  


“Thank you for the reminder.” You roll your eyes. “I thought this was a day of not broaching this topic, and look what you have done: you have broached this topic.”

  


“I speak with love,” Rose says, tone too flat to be convincing. Not that she was trying in the first place.

  


“We’ll see, is all I can say,” you tell her, “I mean, not tell sell myself short but I’m not exactly a model template for ‘Singles Available To The General Public’.”

  


“We  _ are  _ based in a very cishet-normative society,” she simpers. You both laugh and leave after finishing your coffee and cake. 

  


It’s a good day.

  


> **10:03AM**

  


It’s hard to figure out what to do without Dirk around. Rose has the whole day off to help you through being productive but the day still feels like a slow-motion blur in the background of your direct perception. She grounds you, though, and distracts you with menial things.

  


You’re doing shopping at the moment. It started with glancing at windows of small boutiques before it became a discussion of clothes for Dirk and dinner tonight. You decide on making marinated chicken and rice with a side salad. Healthy, eventful-looking on a plate, and will keep you occupied further with food preparation. 

  


All that’s left is picking out seasonal clothes. The fact Dirk has to wear a uniform helps so you don’t have to get the latest in fashionable items for a four-year-old but it still doesn’t make having a handful of shirts and pants any better. The sales are aplenty too and you buy some clothes that Dirk can grow comfortably into. Seems like a fitting gift. The pun rolls around in your head and makes you laugh.

  


You’re looking at some clothes for yourself in the next store Rose leads you into and pluck a nice shirt from the rack. It’s a button up, a warm purple that matches a bracelet you have around that Dirk made you. You need more formal wear, you realize as you think about Dirk’s school, and it doesn’t bother you any but you still feel a need to buy something else. You grab yourself two large shirts and some fitting longer-sleeved shirts. Work clothes. 

  


Your next stop is a more hipster new-gen store that has all the skinny jeans you could possibly ever want in life and you buy for your age and get two pairs, having remembered you ruined your other more comfortable pair with paint. 

  


Rose doesn’t care much for what you buy, and she doesn’t buy much for yourself, but she lets you do your own thing while she is busy texting and answering calls. Even on her day off she is still busy. Being the head of human resources, you don’t envy her. You have the most flexible hours as someone freelance and “full-time”, building a decent reputation gained through your aunt’s friends. You find a way to make doing photography and working at a cafe look easy. 

  


But only when you really want to do it.

  


Dirk’s start of school admittedly put you through a bit of a slump. You’re slowly becoming more productive. Cooking helps.

  


Pushing your cart of food and fashion articles around, you drop everything off into your car before heading over to your workplace. 

  


> **12:13PM**

  


You’re greeted with a nod by one of the few people at the moment you could consider a friend if you saw them more than five times a week. 

  


“Hey, Captor,” you wave, walking into the kitchen while Rose finds a seat, still on her phone. “Busy?”

  


“Yeah, actually, if you couldn’t tell by the lack of space between a stroller and an old person’s walker,” he spits, nose crinkling as you look mildly sympathetic. “This rush sucks major dick and it’s only Monday.”

  


“I could step in? Want me on coffee or food?” you say, heading to the back and making yourself look like you work there and not like a customer. (You stuff the tie in your locker, unbutton your shirt, roll the sleeves, and shrug on your apron.)

  


“Float for me. I’ll do food prep though and you wrap up coffees before helping me out. I got a junior on their break. Kid doesn’t know a bagel from a donut,” Sollux rolls his eyes under his specs.

  


“To be fair, they are similar shape.”

  


“Our bagels are  _ blue _ . Our donuts are  _ iced _ or  _ brown _ .”

  


“Just get in the kitchen, Sol,” you say, snorting as you shake your head and take over for coffees. You don’t mind working. You’re getting free food out of it, you tell yourself. And while you have Karkat serving - he gives you a quick hello before getting some tongs from beside you - the rush is something you can live with on your day off.

  


“How’s the kid?” Sollux calls from the kitchen.

  


“First day of school, bless my weeping soul,” you call back, emptying a group and loading it with coffee. You make your shots while your milk steams. “I think I may have cried, can’t remember though.”

  


“You get pictures?”

  


“Obviously.” You grin at him. The front of the shop clears up with only customers waiting on their take-away coffees waiting to the side. Karkat comes to help you with cold drinks while you work, cappuccinos in a row and getting dusted with powdered chocolate all at once.

  


“I can’t believe that means you’ve been here for over four years. Don’t you know this shithole is just a stepping stone to a better job?” Karkat jabs, rolling his eyes at you. There’s no malice in his comment though, just a joke about how shit working a cafe can be. 

  


(Besides: you do have a more semi-serious (part-time) job at the local art studio. Unfortunately, having two jobs doesn’t make you quite the breadwinner in comparison to Rose.)

  


“Can’t leave you two alone, can I?” You reply. If they weren’t working you know you’d have a middle finger directed at you from both of them. “Oh yeah, Captor, can I have a chicken and salad wrap with mayo for my cousin? She’s on table 12.”

  


“Make it yourself,” he groused.

  


“Can’t. Take-aways.”

  


A few minutes later, the new junior turns up. You can make that assumption easy because they walk in, nervously looking around at the packed cafe, and collect their apron. 

  


“What’s the newbie’s name?” you hiss at Karkat who shrugs and replies, “Lin or something, don’t ask me!”

  


“Yo, Captor, is newbie working tables or shop?”

  


“She’s on tables with Vriska to get her used to it. You done with coffees?”

  


“Gotta serve after then fix displays, man, might be a bit.”

  


“I just need shit from the storeroom.”

  


“All good, homie.”

  


You get through your coffees and it’s sort of fun working, even as busy as it is, serving a customer before fixing something, and then serving some more.

  


“Next waiting was?” you call, and the queue shifts down and you’re staring at blue.

  


Well.

  


“Are you stalking me?” you say, trying to break the ice quickly, giving a small smile. You have work to do. And that work has taught you a lot about faking it to make it.

  


“I actually was just going to get some lunch and this place is closest to the station,” John says, obviously stunned by your presence, “I had no idea you worked here.”

  


“I’m only teasing, Egbert,” you say smoothly, gesturing for him to move around as you make your way to the coffee machine. Karkat has a few take-aways lined up for you.

  


“So is this an ironic following of The Starving Artist stereotype or…?” he says, trying to make conversation. You shrug. 

  


“Irony is very last decade, dude, some of us gotta be adults some time,” you say smoothly, a small smug smile on your face when his falters. He snorts and shakes his head.

  


“I didn’t expect you to change so much,” he says.

  


“I didn’t expect you to change at all,” you reply, passing him a mocha. His mocha. Warm, three sugars, half-strength on the coffee, extra chocolate on top with some caramel syrup. “Still the same shit as the 7th grade.” You laugh.

  


“You make it better,” John says after taking a sip. You try not to turn a shade darker under the gaze he gives you over his fogged glasses. Jesus fuck.

  


“Plenty of practice.”

  


There’s a quiet between you filled by you making coffee and taking orders but it’s not so busy anymore and too quickly there’s nothing more for you to do. John opens his mouth and you press down the feeling of worry.

  


“Dave, I was wondering what was taking you so long. We have ice-cream in the truck,” Rose says, making her way to the machine. She feigns complete surprise when she says, “John?” When John’s attention is drawn to your cousin, you take the time to sigh and roll your eyes. You mouth, ‘Thank you.’

  


“Wow, Rose? God, it’s been ages. Not since elementary!” John laughs and Rose smiles politely, her brows raising at you as she gestures for you to hurry up.

  


“It has been a long time. How are you?” 

  


“I’m good,” he answers, accepting her embrace and kiss on the cheek, “Just dropped in for a coffee on my way back to my place from gran’s. Didn’t know that Dave worked here, or that you were here too.”

  


“We were doing some shopping to pass the time before having to pick up Dirk from school,” she explains, “But how is Jade and her children?”

  


“Yeah, Jade is good. Misses Jane but Jake keeps her occupied enough, wildfire he is. Jane, of course, misses Jade too but she’s too focused on school and friends at the moment so kind of enjoying that while it lasts,” John replies, rolling his shoulders. “Kids are a handful but it’s not bad.”

  


“Oh? Thinking about settling already, John? Who is the lucky one?” Rose teases, and you want to die in the heat of the coffee around you.

  


“I actually don’t have anyone at the moment,” John says bashfully, “I just think that there’s a sort of pride gained from kids. Like teaching them how to spell and all that sort of thing. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing more than just a 9 to 5 job.”

  


You try not to drown deeper into growing embarrassment as your cousin continues to look like the cat who caught the canary. 

  


“You’ve matured a lot since the Facebook statuses you made as a teenager,” Rose praises, and you try and remain as straight-faced as possible through the exchange. 

  


“Just don’t show them to Jane,” John jokes.

  


“I don’t promise shit,” you find your voice and say, removing your apron and throwing it in the cabinet under the bench behind you. 

  


“Finished now, cousin?” Rose says.

  


“I’ve been here for the worst part of 30 minutes and I am starving. Let’s just get my sandwich and head home before my Triple Choc Fudge Fundae Ice Cream melts into ice cream soup,” you mumble. Your ears feel hot and when you walk into the kitchen to make yourself something, Sollux looks at you.

  


“Can I ask?”

  


“Maybe,” you say with a shrug, deflating as you butter your bread.

  


“Sweet: what’s up?” he asks.

  


“Everything.”

  


> **1:08PM**

  


“You meddling witch,” you hiss at Rose. She waves aside your insults that you hurl in quick succession, one after another, while she packs the food you bought away.

  


“Can’t a group of old friends have a bit of a catch up? What’s so wrong about that?”

  


“Oh-ho-ho, you know,” you say, voice low as your forefinger jabs the air in front of her face. She pinches your fingertip and removes it from in front of her.

  


“You’ll be fine. Besides, you might as well get such formalities out of the way now rather than never. Jane and Dirk are in the same year. You  _ have _ to see John more often. Nip it right in the bud.” She looks like she’s going to roll her eyes at you. You give her a look daring her to and don’t care when her own eyes sharpen at you. 

  


The staring contest between you both leaves you tired and annoyed eventually and your gaze drops under her own stern one. You know you’re the problem. That you have to grow up. You said you would when you left all those years ago. But the memories still make your heart throb and your cheeks burn. Rose looks at your softly when she notices your change in demeanor. 

  


“Dave-”

  


“You’re right. I know,” you interrupt her. She looks surprised. You’re usually stubborn and not one to admit you’re wrong, even indirectly. “I just- Five years, Rosie. Five…” She sighs and puts an arm around your shoulders. You lean into her, closing your eyes and letting your headache pulse away.

  


“You have a lot of catching up to do,” she says. You nod in agreement. You’re scared. But she’s right. Better to get the hard part out of the way. 

  


“S’not like I gotta tell him about Dirk, right?” you reply, a little hopeful. Her silence is the most appreciated answer.

  


> **3:30PM**

  


The echo of the bell ringing is heard when you step onto the school grounds. Rose leaves you to collect Dirk while she finds parking, something you never realized was hell for the adults while you were a kid. You have a newfound appreciation for your parents. You tuck away a mental note to mention it to your dad when you visit him next for Christmas.

  


You locate the general area the kindergarten classes would be and wait with parents you have sort of familiarized yourself with. They greet you with a smile and you politely return the gesture before turning to the doors of the building. 

  


Tiny humans, little kids, small people. They all flood out of the doors in shrieks that piece your ears and makes your heart rush in a panic. You play with the toys on you keychain in your pocket to try and still your fidgeting as you impatiently waited to spot Dirk.

  


“BOO!”

  


You jump in surprise, shrieking out a curse that has Dirk holding his sides as he laughed aloud at you. You growl and give his head a noogie that heats your knuckles. He’s still laughing, if with a few complaints about his position strung between bouts of giggles. Your nose scrunches up and you’re still annoyed but eventually your frustration dissipates and Dirk’s snickering ceases and you both hug each other in a proper greeting.

  


“How was school, you lil shit,” you say fondly, snorting as you grab Dirk’s bag and hike him up on your hip. He grins and babbles about how  _ cool _ what he learned and how  _ fun  _ talking to people was. Your chest swells with pride and you let your ear get talked off as you tried to now locate Rose and the truck. 

  


“Oh yeah, you friends with Jane?” you ask, walking down the street as you think you may have found her.

  


“I guess? We talked and she’s really cool. She brought these funny glasses that have a mustache on them.”

  


“Well, her uncle is a friend of Aunt Rosie and me and they might be coming over for dinner sometime. Just so you know,” you tell him. “So I hope y’all get along alright. It’d be real awkward if you didn’t.”

  


“Is this a friend that’s allowed to sleep over?” Dirk asks. You pout in thought, a process you put on for show for Dirk.

  


“Sure, if it’s allowed with her uncle and her mom and if she wants to. Gotta have everyone on board.”

  


“Cool!”

  


The way he says it makes you smile softly. You’re so happy he’s socializing, making friends, the things you think childhood should be about. You’d never want to ruin that opportunity for him. You feel like you’ve already done a little bit of that, not allowing him to go to pre-school. And also just being a young and unprepared parent in general at the beginning.

  


“You got homework, by the way? We can get that done while dinner is cooking,” you say. The car you spotted is definitely your truck and Rose is tapping away on her phone when you get close enough. You open the back door and buckle Dirk in, putting his bag on the floor of the truck.

  


“They gave me these things called Golden Words which I gotta practice everyday and you gotta sign this thing to say I did it,” Dirk says, digging into his bag to pull it out. “And Miss Leijon also gave me some math work! Everyone else is only doing words but I get to do numbers!”

  


“Sounds awesome, kiddo,” you say, smiling as you buckle yourself in. Nothing uncool about car safety. 

  


Rose sighs and stretches her legs before starting the car.

  


“Okay, snack run?” she says. Dirk’s cheer makes you grin and you shake your head, admonishing Rose with the gesture. 

  


“I can’t believe you, of all people, are the one who frequents McD’s the most between us.”

  


“I’m a busy business woman, Dave. Fast food is the shit.”

  
You bark out a laugh as she eases into the road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a lil late! [Me and Lil B](http://robotentacles.tumblr.com/post/155373058418) are still settling in and I got horrendously sick the other night. The next chapter is almost finished so maybe expect another relatively quick update but after that it may be monthly updates depending on reception. A not-so-spoiler: It's so damn gay/you get the context for the summary snippet. 
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos are appreciated but comments really do drive me so please drop a line - a favorite portion, what you expect to see, what you _want_ to see. The great thing about this still being in progress is that I would be happy to indulge a few interactions if I see it being "canon" to this story. 
> 
> Til next time! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You tell her all of it. From paraphrased quotes to the looks on John’s face that you noticed every now and then through the conversation. You tell her the lot. And you can tell she’s smirking. You’re grinning to yourself recounting the solid two hours you and John had together because it was surreal. A blast from the past that made you long for the youth you chose to put aside for Dirk. You don’t regret your choice, but John was your greatest ‘What If’, and when your nerves build up he still continues to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler?? _it's the chapter with the sappy part hell yeahhhhhh_
> 
> **_CW:_ ** _ Discussions of Recreational Drug Use _

> **8:52AM**

 

“Dave!”

 

You don’t want to turn to acknowledge the call of your name. The thought makes your stomach squirm and makes you lose the ability to breathe. Only for a moment though, because you take one deep breath and square your shoulders before doing what you dreaded. It’s been a couple of weeks and he’s let you be, stewing in your own awkwardness. This was inevitable. You just wish not now.

 

“John,” you say, not being able to look at him when he approaches you with a short jog. He’s all smiles, still a morning person, and you hope you can remove yourself from the nostalgia that makes your heart swell. He’s also probably just trying to appear polite, you tell yourself to sober yourself from such reminiscence. 

 

“You busy? Was hoping to catch you to get some coffee,” he asks, not abrupt but not trying to tiptoe like you do. You forgot how refreshing the honesty is when someone approaches you with it. But you’re still apprehensive, telling in how you fiddle with your sleeve to look at your watch and shuffle your feet.

 

“I-,” you start, knowing you have no excuse. You have to get over it. You have to go through with it. No amount of telling yourself that changes how much you don’t want to but your mouth is working ahead of your brain when you reply, “I’m not doing anything right now, I guess.”

 

You’re not sure if John looks relieved or disappointed with how his expression drops for a moment in surprise. None of you were expecting a positive response. You were both working improv from now on.

 

“There’s a cafe nearby that I go to after dropping Jane off. It’s only round the corner if that’s alright?” He looks unsure, like you’ll change your mind if the place isn’t up to your standards. Lucky for him, your standards for eateries are exceptionally low. You learned not to be so picky with a kid who just wants to be fed. It was Dirk’s way or the highway. Just to stop him from crying, you chose Dirk’s way.

 

You sigh at his unsure look and give him a small smile. You’ve been allowing him that much of your old self. A politeness, and an internal want to give him that look. To see his cheeks tinge red as you both relive the smaller moments of your time together in a past you never regretted. 

 

“You’re driving,” you say as you walk passed him to the exit gate. “Hope you drive stick better than you used to.”

 

You can hear the smile in his voice when he calls to you, “You crash into a hot dog stand  _ once _ -”

 

> **9:23AM**

 

It is insane how pleasant having coffee with John is. 

 

You catch up on a lot, skimming the time you left however. He doesn’t push for answers but you can see how much he wants broach the topic. And you know you owe him an explanation but you can’t bring yourself to give him one. Not yet. So you stick to safer topics. Family. Careers. The brief recall of moments made by stupid teenagers. You feel yourself smile. You wish you could stop smiling so much.

 

“Your bag smelled gross for weeks! All for the aesthetic,” John teases and you nudge him hard under your table with a crooked grin that only widens when he flinches, still laughing at you.

 

“The smell wasn’t even the grossest part,” you say, remembering the dead bird body you had in the front pocket of your backpack in high school. “The maggots were disgusting. It was what made me want to throw up the most, really.”

 

“I kept my room clean after what happened to you. Never left a piece of food up there. Even spotting an ant led to a full spray down,” John replies. You snort.

 

“Same, dude. I couldn’t stand staying with Rose over the holidays when I did. At least her room was a sty of wool and papers though, I guess, and not...y’know. Dead animals and snack packs.”

 

“The last time we ever got it that messy was when your brother got you that weed for your sixteenth,” John muses, and you hide this one smile. Your ears feel hot and when you look at John, he’s looking away from you and appears to be blushing just as much. That night… 

 

“It was fun,” you say, hands wrapping around your mug as you bring it to your lips. You see John look at your from his peripherals. You don’t look away this time; he does.

 

“The munchies were real,” he says with a slow nod of his head. “‘Oh shit, my limb.’ Remember that?”

 

You bark out a laugh, dissolving into snorts and giggles. You  _ do _ remember, among other things. But that one was a piece of gold. 

 

“It was really intense, okay?”

 

“What did you say the reason was for it again?” John grins. “Something about your head being super fast?”

 

“I was eating chips and I was completely gone. Absolutely high,” you recount, “And in my head I could see the arm holding my chips was falling in slow motion.”

 

John’s grin grows from amused to positively shit-eating. You continue.

 

“So, while my arm was going down, slow-mo style, my head moves faster than my entire body altogether and positions itself so my mouth is directly under the hand holding my chips. That’s when I yell out, ‘Oh shit, my limb!’ before my fingers just relaxed and the chips drop into my mouth like a claw machine.”

 

John’s laughing now and you can’t help but the flush of embarrassment that rises in your face even though it happened years ago. 

 

You’re laughing too.

 

“It’s only funny because if we weren’t high it would’ve been something completely stupid,” you tell him and he nods in agreement.

 

“‘Do we eat to sate munchies or to get rid of the taste of weed when there are no drinks?’ Or something like that?”

 

“I can’t believe you can actually get the quote close to correct,” you reply. He shrugs and when he looks back at you, you can feel your heart completely stop for the time your eyes are locked.

 

“I remember a lot,” he tells you. You try to tear your eyes away from his stare but all too soon his hand is on top of your fist as gentle as a breeze like you would slip out if he held on any tighter. You shudder, licking your lips and breathing out slowly.

 

“I’m sorry,” you say before he has a chance to continue. “I didn’t mean to- I should’ve said more but-”

 

“You don’t need to explain, Dave. I’ve moved on from that,” John says, squeezing your hand in a familiar way. Reassuring. Loving. You missed it. 

 

“I always thought you would hate me for leaving,” you say, bitter, “If anything, I hoped you would. Just so I could have more of a reason to not come back. So I wouldn’t want to.”

 

“I didn’t. Ever,” John replies, leaning back to look out the window again. His hand is still on yours, thumb rubbing circles into your knuckles. “I moved on from then. I don’t think I’ve moved on from you.”

 

You’re lucky for your skin being on the darker side, your blush rising from where your heart is beating rapidly in your chest all the way up to the tips of your ears. You feel dizzy, winded, and gosh so smitten. By John’s soft smile. His messy bedhead. His crooked glasses. The way he holds your hand like no time has passed between when you left and him being here with you now. 

 

Despite the sudden warmth that rushes through your body, you snatch your hand away and cradle it like you were burned. John doesn’t look hurt when you pull away. If anything, he looks knowing. Like the rose-colored lenses you view him with are so obvious on the bridge of your nose, more so than the smattering of acne scars and freckles on your face. He knew you too well.  _ Knows  _ you too well. It’s unnerving but somehow appreciated. 

 

“Was it because we were each other’s firsts or…?” you ask him, shoulders hunching when you place your hands in your lap. You’re fidgeting. 

 

“There’s no one in the world like you, Dave,” John answers simply with a smile. Him saying that makes you want to cry for letting him go the way you did and you’re sure he notices because he continues with, “But damn, that night-”

 

You snort loudly before he continues.

 

“Just a couple of teens with no idea what they were doing,” he says, dramatic and wistful, while you stifle snorts into your fist. “That thing you did with your-”

 

“Okay, okay, PG-13 in the family cafe,” you interrupt, looking around at the semi-busy shop. You want to respond the same. Rebuttals that are equally casual and humorous. It’s still difficult to do so.

 

“Don’t worry so much about it, Dave. We’re adults now. I know you had your reasons.” You frown to yourself when he says it. Too easily, it sounds like your apology is accepted. It shouldn’t be. You’ve held back so much. John continues: “Rose filled me in on some anyway. With your aunt passing, and she told me about Dirk.”

 

You freeze. You trust Rose not to have told him but still, you want to know.

 

“What did she tell you?”

 

John looks at you, sympathetic for a reason you can’t place just yet. 

 

“She only told me that you helped her a lot through everything, skimming the bits. I guess it still hurts. I can only assume…” He pauses. “You’re great family to have. She made that much clear.”

 

A scapegoat. She used herself as a scapegoat. That doesn’t make you feel any better for some reason but a newfound appreciation for your cousin made something build up in your throat when you nod weakly at John.

 

“Been tough,” you say shortly. “Strilonde’s are tight though.” You give him a smile before your face falls to neutrality. “I hope you get if I don’t wanna talk more about it.”

 

“It’s alright. I understand. Took me years to, but I got there,” John says, lips curling. Your brows raise in acknowledgement as you nod. 

 

He checks the time, and you’re glad you don’t have to because you’re sure that if you did it would look rude. He looks at you, and then you look at your own watch, and you both realize how long you’ve been sitting together. Just coffee. Just talking. Adults. 

 

“We should probably get going,” John suggests, and you nod, drinking the cold dregs of coffee remaining before standing.

 

“Yeah. I should get down to the studio while I have time,” you say, “Won’t get much done but I will leave with the  _ illusion  _ of having done shit.”

 

“And you say I haven’t changed.” 

 

The comment makes you flush, indignant, and you roll your eyes. It only further proves his point. You don’t mind.

 

“Did you need me to drop you off at the station, or?”

 

“I’m okay. I gotta head to the store to grab a prescription for Jane first. Only a walk up the road.”

 

“If you’re sure.” You shrug.

 

“I’ll see you when you pick up Dirk,” he says, taking his own time to stand and shake out the deadness in his legs, “So you don’t have to miss me for too long.”

 

“Hardy-har, Egbert. Try not to trip over the massive ego you’ve grown,” you reply, the first casual retort you’ve passed. It catches you both by surprise. John recovers first.

 

“Five years, right?” 

 

He walks you to your truck. Even closes the door for you. When you both repeat the time to pick up the kids you care for from school it sounds as if you’re confirming a pickup time for a date. It makes you smile despite yourself. 

 

You drive away with John waving you off and when you look in the mirror you see that he turns around to look back at your car again. You bury your head in your shoulders as you take a deep breath and try to focus on the road. You’ve dealt with a screaming two-year-old in your back seat. You can handle a few heart palpitations.

 

You’d have never thought that an old flame would die hard.

 

> **12:04PM**

 

“I owe you one.”

 

“Whatever do you mean,” Rose replies. She sounds like she’s busy shuffling through papers. You know she’s just flicking through them to occupy her hands. Better that than hearing a pen click, you suppose.

 

“Well, guess who has finally calmed down enough from a coffee catch up with an ex to call you to talk about it?” you say, indulging your own stimulating behavior. You take to running your hand through the textured wall mounts you installed for Dirk when he would visit your office, pacing up and down the wall from mount to mount. You purposefully skip the sticky one in the middle.

 

“Please, do tell,” Rose says, interest piqued. You hear her desk chair creak. She’s leaning forward on her desk. You imagine her fingers laced and her chin propped on top of them, cliched. It makes you snort.

 

“Long story short, it was...really nice,” you tell her. “We just fell right back into place again. Obviously it was awkward at first but then we just kept talking and  _ talking _ and, Rosie, he was  _ flirting _ . Like,  _ held-my-hand-and-legitimately-told-me-to-my-face-how-he-wasn’t-over-me  _ and more subtle flirting.”

 

“And recall how  _ that _ statement even came to be in the first place.”

 

You tell her all of it. From paraphrased quotes to the looks on John’s face that you noticed every now and then through the conversation. You tell her the lot. And you can tell she’s smirking. You’re grinning to yourself recounting the solid two hours you and John had together because it was surreal. A blast from the past that made you long for the youth you chose to put aside for Dirk. You don’t regret your choice, but John was your greatest ‘What If’, and when your nerves build up he still continues to be. 

 

Then you reach the part where John tips you off on her meddling. She goes silent for a moment. She’s waiting for you to speak out your response to her throwing herself under the bus for you running away from your life. You don’t miss the noise she makes when you thank her.

 

“I owe you one,” you repeat the introduction to your conversation. “ You didn’t have to - he knows I would’ve pushed him away if he pried - but you gave me a way out. One that I don’t deserve, for him and from you. So, really. Thanks, Rose.” 

 

She laughs softly.

 

“The chronology of your disappearance fit. Mother was already in ill health when she brought you in. She at least got to see the child of her nephew before she passed,” she said, her voice soft, “But it’s not an out, cousin. Just a chance. For you to figure out this situation with Dirk and John. I still think you should tell him. I just bought you some time before the truth inevitably rises to the surface.”

 

“You didn’t have to do all that though,” you repeat. “Telling him all that. Made me look better than what I really was when I ran.”

 

“You explained nothing to him and your father certainly didn’t provide any other details either. It was better to have it be assumed it was all due to familial circumstance. Mother would understand.”

 

“Bless her,” you say, smiling fondly. Rose laughs.

 

“We’ll visit her at the end of the month. No offense to mommy dearest but I don’t exactly want to spend my twenty-third birthday at a cemetery,” she says. Your brows raise as you remember the date.

 

“Oh shit, it’s November already?”

 

“Well, still September but very late so it might as well be.”

 

“I have no idea what to do for Dirk’s birthday. Turning five and first year at school? Gotta celebrate big and also with his new friends.”

 

“We aren’t having a party in the apartment.”

 

“Oh yeah, fuck no,” you say, snorting. “I was thinking those party land places. With the jumping castles and shit.”

 

“Best book it in now then,” Rose says. “This is what happens when you have a birthday near Christmas."

 

“And also a kid.”

 

“Sorry for your parenthood. Rest in pieces, Dave.”

 

Fondly, you tell Rose to fuck off.

 

> **3:28PM**

 

You’re standing by the school’s outdoor basketball court opposite the classrooms, a Candy Crush game sounding from your phone, when your shoulder is tapped. You look up, sigh, and look over the shoulder opposite the disturbed one. 

 

“John,” you greet, amused. He smiles.

 

“Sup.”

 

“Y’know. Waiting to pick up a kindergartener.” You turn back to your phone. “How ‘bout you?”

 

“Same,” he says, looking over your shoulder. “What level are you on?”

 

“224,” you tell him. He whistles, impressed it sounds like.

 

“Not bad, not bad,” he says. You then realize the whistle was patronizing. 

 

You raise a brow and ask, “What’s yours then?”

 

Confidently, he answers, “527.”

 

“That…” you start, holding in a laugh, “Isn’t something to be so proud of.”

 

“The pride comes from it being better than you,” he retorts smartly. You roll your eyes, returning to your game. You have eight moves left and thirteen chocolates to get rid of. The school bell rings but it’s white noise to your move planning.

 

“If you move the red one you’ll get four to join with the bomb for a special,” John interrupts your thinking with a suggestion you wish you can ignore. The move ends up staring right back at you and you follow his instructions without looking at his smug face. 

 

“One proper coffee conversation and all of a sudden you think you’re entitled to my Candy Crush rounds,” you joke, tucking your phone away when you win.  John shrugs.

 

Soon enough there is a rush of black and yellow and Dirk is clinging to your leg while Jane clings to John’s. You kneel to give Dirk his greeting hug, something he beams about, before taking his bag and holding his hand. John does the same except he picks up Jane and lets her small limbs wrap around his neck. He seems used to the weak, and still suffocating, grip.

 

“How was school, lil bud?” you ask Dirk, letting him talk about the day that is not unusual to you. It’s always the same, but you know Dirk likes the sound of his own voice. When you turn to glance over at John, Jane seems to be the same. You share a look with the adult of the pair. Kids.

 

By the time you reach the gate with Dirk in hand he’s trailed off his conversation with you to have one with Jane. For a while, you listen in on their conversation. It’s hilarious and baffling what kids come up with. One minute they’re talking about rocks and the next they’re bursting out laughing before talking about something else. You can only shake your head and wonder.

 

John takes this time to engage you in conversation while the kids trail off in front of you on their own. It’s pleasant, light, and casual. There’s no forcing it like how you initially thought every interaction with him would be. The weight of the thought of it is brought off your shoulders the longer you linger in front of your car, fully escaping your body as your posture straightens slightly and you ask if they would like a ride to the station.

 

You thought one five-year-old was a handful. Now you have two in your car singing loud renditions of songs they had learned in class. It’s not as endearing as it could be, the songs repetitive and the traffic slow. But the way John snickers and the way the two kids grin has you feeling a little less weary about the volume. At least it’s happy chanting rather than angry screaming. 

 

What feels like maybe thirty minutes is actually a decent fifteen by the time you get out of the thick of traffic. Jane pouts when they have to leave for the train, disappointment shared on Dirk’s face as well though far more well hidden. When you look over him his brows still furrow. He allows you that much.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” John asks as he picks Jane up and shoulders her bag with his free arm. 

 

“Yeah. Course,” you respond, shrugging your shoulder as Dirk clambers into the front passenger seat. You roll your eyes at your kid before messing his hair. “Later, Egbert.”

 

“Strider.” He smiles. 

 

You drive away so you can blush with your head between your shoulders away from John’s bright blue eyes.

 

There’s a smile hidden on your bitten lip. You shake your head of the immaturity, the static that makes the hairs on the tips of your ears stand over the redness. 

  
You focus on Dirk, rather than your heartbeat or the memory of a bucktoothed smile from years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup. How is everyone? 
> 
> Sorry if the chapter is a bit short and probably grammatically lacking! (I honestly can't tell all too well.) I actually finished it roughly half a week ago? I just wanted to at least have the next chapter roughed out before I updated. I think I may keep up that sort of thing because it allows for an easier next update since it's already started. Idk. It was just a bit of a ride writing while looking after B. About half this chapter (and also some of the next) I had to write with one hand because I was trying to get him to sleep and then I had to edit while he was asleep for the short amount of time he was. Pfft. [It's incredibly hot in Australia and he isn't too fond of it lol.](https://www.google.com.au/search?q=campbelltown+weather+week&rlz=1C1KMZB_enAU518AU538&oq=campbelltown+weather+week&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.4846j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8) _(For Fahrenheit users, it's been around 95 degrees F - 110 degrees F!)_
> 
> Anyway, your comments fuel me so always feel free to drop them, even on anon. ;P Have a great day and take care! x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He’s casual, still taking to too much blue in his wardrobe if his shirt is an indicator, and it’s a look you recall in high school. You hope he misses the way your eyes travel up and down his body, appreciating how his jeans fit as well as his shirt._
> 
> _Recalling many conversations with Rose, in that moment you realize just how thirsty you are._
> 
> _You sort of want to punch yourself._
> 
> _Especially when you’re caught up in a daydream where he closes the door and kisses you senseless-_
> 
> _You **definitely** want to punch yourself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to back updates like whaaaaaaaat

> **3:12AM**

 

You’re awake, taking to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. Or perhaps technically the opposite. 

 

Rose sits beside you, wine glass in hand, leg swaying back and forth as she absentmindedly sips at her drink. Meanwhile you have a cigarette alight in your mouth and inhale deeply before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. 

 

It’s a break night. The month has been hard with Thanksgiving right around the corner and both you and Rose working for Dirk’s birthday and Christmas. Holiday season. It makes for a good excuse to partake in a few vices. You do so out of the nosy view of Dirk, however. He knows that the adults have ‘special drinks’ for special occasions but you haven’t yet told him that adults also have it during times of stress and fatigue.

 

A sigh escapes Rose and you raise a brow as you offer your cigarette. She takes it easily, the stick rolling between her fingers as you pass it off and light another one for yourself. She can have that half done one. 

 

“Should we perhaps have a holiday getaway for the time between our birthdays and Christmas? Is it possible to have enough for that much?” she says, peering into her glass, half full, before topping it off again. 

 

“Dirk has school, Ro. Would love to, but I think an easier option to de-stress yourself would be to take your girlfriend out for a night. Relax and have some fun,” you reply, nudging her to indicate the double entendre. 

 

“Indeed,” Rose says with pursed lips. You raise a brow.

 

“Something’s wrong.”

 

“Not...entirely?” she says. Her brows quirk and she bites her lips as heat takes them. Now one corner of your mouth pulls down as your face looks disbelieving. She takes a deep breath and asks in a rush, “Do you think Kanaya is planning to propose?”

 

A moment passes. And another. You try and process what your cousin is asking you, as if you had the ability to even answer her. But you don’t. You can only sit there, stunned, because unlike Rose you can see the absolute lack of subtlety her partner possesses. If Rose feels something is amiss it’s because it most definitely is.

 

You choose to not suspect a thing. 

 

“Why do you ask?” 

 

Rose chuckles as if she’s entertaining flights of fancy. 

 

“Pfft, I don’t know. I’m probably projecting! Just. A work colleague of mine notified me during a break that he may have seen her at a jewellers.”

 

“She’s getting you some fancy bling. Big deal?” you comment, taking her bottle of wine and allowing yourself a drink. 

 

“Not just any jewellers-”

 

“Ah, but of course!”

 

“-but  _ Raoul’s _ .”

 

“You say it like I’m supposed to know who that is. Like, what happened to shit like Michael Hill. Tiffany’s. The generic shit.”

 

“ _ Raoul’s _ is a jeweller that specializes in more gem work rather than gold or silver. They’re  _ amazing _ and I had commented to Kan how much I would love a ring from them.”

 

“So you’re getting a gift from a place she remembers.” You shrug, trying to reason with her. “You overthink this shit, Rose, you’re gonna end up all kinds of disappointed when it’s not what you think.”

 

“I know that much,” she snaps, running her hand over her face. “But she’s been  _ implying _ a  _ future _ for us. Like, moving in together. And also I think she tried to reference children by using Dirk as a buffer?” She frowns, stares hard at her glass, and then downs it all.

 

“Do you...not...wanna get married or something?” you ask, refilling her cup. 

 

“Quite the opposite, really,” she says with a laugh, a watery grin on her face when she looks at you. You put down the wine bottle, almost dropping it, as noises of worry leave you. She rubs at her eyes, smudging the eyeliner beneath them, shuddering out another laugh. “God, I want to marry her so much, Dave! I want her to propose to me so badly! Is that bad? Is that such a selfish thing?”

 

“Jesus- Rose, no, it isn’t, can you please hush it a bit? Dirk’s still asleep!” you hiss at her, arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders as you hug her and try and silence her sobs.

 

Suddenly they do cease, replaced by a gasp of realization. 

 

“I should buy a ring too, shouldn’t I? And if she doesn’t propose then I’ll do it first. And if she does then we’ll both have a ring rather than just one. Perfect, right?”

 

You have to stare at her for a moment; the sudden one-eighty on her disposition was quick enough to give a person whiplash. You pinch the bridge of your nose and declare her drunk enough for the night as she returns to sobbing how much she loves her girlfriend. You don’t feel sorry for her and the hangover she’ll be nursing come morning.

 

You’re happy for her though. Your cousin just may very well be getting married. As she balls her eyes out into your shirt you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

 

> **10:21AM**

 

You wake up on the couch, Dirk sitting by your feet and watching cartoons. You groan as you get up, brows pinching together as light blinds you for the moment it directly hits your eyes. They water, you hiss, and you rub them furiously as you make your way to the kitchen by memory rather than sight.

 

“Hot choc, lil man?” you call out.

 

“Yes, please, bro,” Dirk returns, padding over to you and climbing onto the bar stool by the bench. 

 

You boil the jug and collect three mugs. You suspect Rose will be up in a bit, though you’ve been wrong before and she drank quite a few bottles of cheap white wine. Despite her experience with alcoholic beverages, you manage to hold up a fraction better than her. 

 

Your mobile rings while you’re pouring the hot water into each cup. You can hear it buzzing in the lounge and with a gesture of your head, Dirk nods and collects it for you. You’re stirring the contents of one mug as you swipe to the right and answer it. 

 

“Dave Strider speaking,” you say as you open the fridge and grab out the skim milk. 

 

“I will never get used to you answering the phone that way.” You snort, trying to smother the grin that pulls at your cheeks.

 

“Gotta learn to adult someday, Egbert. Nowadays it’s considered rude to answer the phone with ‘waddup biatch’.”

 

“Bad word!” Dirk interrupts. You apologize and roll your eyes at John laughing at you.

 

“Anyway, you called?” you address John again, pinching Dirk’s cheek before dropping a kiss on it. Fuck, you love your kid.

 

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you’re free,” John replied. He sounded as if he was doing something as he spoke with you, the rattling of dishes all too familiar to your parental ears.  You then hear a murmur, John laugh and speak away from the phone, and then a whine, again, familiar to parental ears.

 

“Jane wants to come over,” you state, no questioning it. Dirk perks up at his friend’s name, not yet aware that you can see friends outside of school on days that aren’t school days. Despite attending the academy for around a month now, it hadn’t occurred to you that inviting other children to your home was a thing. Even more unfortunate, it hadn’t occurred to you that Dirk would want to invite others to your home. 

 

You are a clueless father. 

 

“Actually, yeah,” John laughs, “Only if you’re alright with it. I know it’s a weekend and you guys might be busy-”

 

“Dude, chill, we’re free. Dirk would love it if she came over, actually,” you reply, eyeing your child who looks close to exploding with giddiness. Oh boy, today is gonna be a handful.

 

“Sweet. Want us to bring anything? Toys? Food?”

 

“Oh, uh.” You need a moment to think, unsure if you really did need anything and also not wanting John to go out of his way to get you whatever you probably did need. But thinking made your head ache and you remember that you aren’t exactly in the best position to be looking after two rowdy kids. “Can you come over with some aspirin?”

 

“Easy. Can I ask why? Still gonna bring it, being clear, but just wondering.”

 

“Rough week. Can’t say what exactly I need it for. Dirk’s in the kitchen and being nosy.” You smile as Dirk’s cheeks puff. 

 

“Gotcha. How late did you stay up to get away with it?”

 

“Went to bed at around 4. Rose was blubbering after 3 and wouldn’t shut up, bless her.”

 

“Want me to bring something for her too?”

 

“She made her bed. Now she’s gotta lay in it.”

 

“Harsh.”

 

“Absolutely savage.” You grin. “Anyway, see you in how long?”

 

“Half an hour? 45 minutes? Text me your address while we’re on the way.”

 

“Will do. Later, Egbert.”

 

> **11:16AM**

 

Dirk is having a bath while you’re vacuuming the floors, music on at half full blast. You don’t want to wake up Rose. It’s late in the morning but it’s been a rough work period and she’s still probably regretting the bottles she drank and the things she said.

 

Besides that, you want everything clean when John and Jane arrive. Not that it was really messy to begin with in your home, only a pile of dishes and a couch decorated with a small pillow fort Dirk created to lounge in this morning. You know, though, that things could be cleaner. You wiped the benches and dining table, sprayed disinfectant on Dirk’s toys (Don’t want Jane getting Dirk’s cooties, you’d joke, but you do know how easy it is for kids to get sick because of each other. Dirk’s strong immune system was no thanks to you and many to the early childhood center you would sometimes, but rarely, leave him at when you were desperate and working.). 

 

But now, vacuuming. The last thing to do before having a shower yourself.

 

Dirk is wetting the floor with his soaked feet, having just gotten out of his bath. He wants you to dry him and you turn off the vacuum to do so with a fond roll of your eyes. You shouldn’t have gotten him used to it. He runs back to his room and you want to get back to cleaning but you wait a moment, knowing he will come back for you to put on his pants.

 

Like clockwork, he arrives with bottoms in hand and the rest of his clothes on. His underwear is on backwards but you don’t call him on it. It doesn’t matter, really. He’ll realize it the next time he goes to the bathroom. As long as he has them on, remembering days when he would run around without his pull-up diapers.

 

“Fly time, huh?” you ask him as you take the pants off of him. He nods, serious, but you can see he’s excited. “Okay then…” 

 

You put the pants on the floor for him to step into, squatting down just enough for him wrap his arms around your neck. You don’t pull them up just yet.

 

“1.” You bounce. “2.” And again. “ _ Bums away! _ ” You lift Dirk’s pants and himself up into your arms and he laughs and kicks his legs about like he was on a carnival ride. You grin at him and give him a hug, large and warm for the winter cold that doesn’t penetrate the windows but does rattle them. 

 

The introduction to a song you both recognize plays and he bounces on your chest, giddy, and your grin widens because, damn, do you love this song.

 

“ _ My name is Davey, I’m so very, fly - oh my - it’s a lil’ bit scary, _ ” you sing goofily. Or, a little less goofily than what you would do, drunk at a karaoke bar with Karkat and Sollux. With Dirk, you always would sing in your regular voice, or fall into silliness when you’re having fun, because he really does like your voice. And with your kid all walls of self-consciousness collapse because he loves you for all of you and you’re the same with him.

 

“ _ Boys wanna marry. Lookin at my darry- _ ,” Dirk follows, but he doesn’t quite know what the words mean so it’s all the more hilarious. 

 

“ _ ‘Erre, you can stare, but if you touch it I’mma bury _ ,” you finish the next verse,  

 

You both sing, back and forth, lyrics ingrained into your brains.  You’ve been jamming to this one for years, even before Dirk was able to co-ordinate his butt to wiggle as soon as he heard the song. You both have this down, dropping him off onto the couch so that you can take his hands and move them back and forth in a dance.

 

Together you sing the chorus, words that you pinch Dirk’s cheeks to because, hey, he’s your beautiful baby boy even at five.

 

In the middle of it you hear the beeping of your security system telling you that you have visitors. You look at Dirk and say, “Buzz them up and go grab them from downstairs to bring them here. I’ll wrap up the vacuuming.”

 

“Don’t dance without me,” Dirk calls from the kitchen where the receiver is. You snort and wiggle your butt at him when he walks passed to the door.

 

“I will try not to,” you tell him. He rolls his eyes at you and rushes to push the button for the escalator down. 

 

You don’t try.

 

Not even a little.

 

You are back to muttering the lyrics to yourself as the vacuum drowns out, head shaking from side to side as the vacuum head moves forwards and back. As the music’s volume dies, your own voice rises to meet the challenge of being the second loudest thing in the apartment. 

 

Rose walks out, shoulder-length hair a mess and makeup smudged just enough to look grungy. She looks unimpressed and you continue to dance out with the vacuum while she takes a seat on the barstool by the bench and reaches for her not-quite-warm coffee. She brings it to her lips, grimacing slightly.

 

“This best not last the day,” she says over the next song that plays. 

 

“Not by me,” you reply, turning off the vacuum and packing it up. “John and Jane are coming. Should be here in just a sec.”

 

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “Always wanted two 5-year-olds witnessing my hangover. I look like shit, Dave.”

 

“I still gotta have a shower too…” The corner of your mouth pulls down and now you’re unimpressed with yourself. You had one last night, before commencing Break Time with Rose, but when you sniff at your shirt you can still smell a faint linger of nicotine and regret. Nothing immediately recognizable, and nothing that John will ever catch since you don’t intending on being so physically close to him, but still a thing you are now aware about.

 

“I’ll try and keep the shower short,” you tell her, packing the vacuum away as you make your way to your room. 

 

You sigh after you close the door behind you, grabbing your towels from behind the door before heading into the ensuite. You start the shower, strip, get in, and lose yourself to the heat of the water. 

 

It doesn’t burn you like it should but you know that your skin is going to end up patchy as soon as you get out. It calms you, though. Not only cleanliness but just disassociating, staring at water droplets running down the shower screen and the whirls of steam that pass your lashes. 

 

As you promise, you don’t take long. Just long enough to wash your body and rinse your hair. You grab one towel to wrap around your waist and another for your hair, the ends hanging just over your chest as the worst excuse for censorship the TV show in your brain could conjure. A gratuitous display of partial nudity. 

 

The remnants of a fun time still play in your head and you still feel like singing, so you instead hum under your breath with the occasional lyric passing you. You can hear the front door of the apartment shut closed and you know that your guests have finally arrived. The squeals of delight you hear tell you that your day is only beginning now.

  
You return to humming and dressing yourself with a smile. You choose a paint-splotched pair of jeans and baggy sleeveless shirt. Suns out, guns out. You only get the pants on when you hear faint knocking on your door. 

 

“Dave?”

 

The call of your name is also faint and you don’t know if you’re ignoring the sound or if you are blanking out in favor of the song in your head. Either way, you have no response for the door and apply oil to the stretchmarks on your belly before putting on your shirt. You’re going binderless today; you have no intention of going out any further than the park on the corner of the street.

 

“Yeah?” you call back, toeing into your jeans and pulling them up before the door opens.

 

“Hey, Rose told me to grab you,” John says, peering out from behind the door. You sigh, scrubbing your towel through your hair. 

 

“And she failed to get Dirk or do it herself because…?”

 

“She’s making the kids something to eat, at the request of Dirk who wants to show Jane some of his favorite foods,” John answers with a smile, stepping out from behind the door and leaning on the frame. 

 

He’s casual, still taking to too much blue in his wardrobe if his shirt is an indicator, and it’s a look you recall in high school. You hope he misses the way your eyes travel up and down his body, appreciating how his jeans fit as well as his shirt.

 

Recalling many conversations with Rose, in that moment you realize just how thirsty you are.

 

You sort of want to punch yourself.

 

Especially when you’re caught up in a daydream where he closes the door and kisses you senseless-

 

You  _ definitely _ want to punch yourself.

 

“Y’think she made extra? I’m starved,” you say, walking passed with your eyes downcast. He follows behind. You hope your gait doesn’t accommodate for the possibility of a lingering gaze. You know your subconscious hates you enough to do it. 

 

“Maybe. Gotta eat before you can start pill-popping,” he jokes. You roll your eyes.

 

“Thanks, by the way.”

 

“Don’t sweat it. I’m only here to half-palm off my niece onto another unsuspecting person for the day so consider yourself debt-free.” 

 

When you walk into the kitchen, Rose is making French toast and the kids are waiting as patiently as excitable five-year-olds can wait. Your nose wrinkles. Beggers can’t be choosers but cousins can be picky. You aren’t the fondest when it comes to egg-overpowered meals. Maybe cereal will do. 

 

Rose notices your look of disdain at the pain and smirks.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t want any. Repayment for leaving me with them while I look as dishevelled as I do.”

 

“Want me to take over while you get your morning routine down?” John interrupts the retort you have on your tongue. Your mouth shuts and you just stare, deadpan, while she hands over the spatula to John. 

 

“While Dave isn’t as inept as all that, I don’t trust him not to burn it in order to make something else,” she says, winking over her shoulder as she retreats into her room before heading into the bathroom led from the hall. She calls, “Don’t come down, lest you see what cannot be unseen!” 

 

You make a face and John laughs.

 

“So, who’s hungry?”

 

> **1:03PM**

 

It doesn’t take long to eat. Most of the time goes towards chatting and convincing Jane that the food is fine and you’re just a picky eater because you’re an adult. It only takes Dirk digging in for her to finally prod at the soggy egg-bread and dig into it. She loves it. You cringe. John laughs. Rose comes in looking smug.

 

After a bite, Rose offers to take them out while she’s feeling active and you send her a pointed look. Thankfully, John tries to reject the offer - “You just got up; you don’t have to!” - and Rose pushes by asking if he was sure, further bribing the kids with ice cream (the she-devil!).

 

The compromise is that you all go out. Rose takes the kids directly to the park, mouthing “ _ talk _ ” before beginning a conversation that sounds far too intelligent for five-year-olds. To be expected since it’s Rose but also slightly unnerving to hear both Dirk and Jane listen attentively and respond with enthusiasm and understanding - at least of some words; Rose has to explain others and they gasp in awe.

 

You and John are left awkwardly beside each other, a finger apart with your hands almost brushing, and you both are completely aware it’s because of Rose. You’re adults now, no longer teens ignorant of the meddling of friends when it comes to young love. It makes the both of you flush in a vague sense of embarrassment because, again, you’re adults now. 

 

You’re about to say something, start a conversation, and John is too. The interruption, rather than making things awkward, has you both releasing a short laugh of relief. And then there’s that look of fondness, a twinkling in his eyes that makes your heart stop. You have to turn away to hide the grin that’s forming because, damn, do you love that look. 

 

“You were saying?” you say, casting a sidelong glance as you walk ahead of him.

 

“Nothing really. Something to break the ice seeing as how your cousin hasn’t changed,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he watches Rose with the kids. You shrug in agreement.

 

“Yeah; same old Rose. Pain in the ass extraordinaire.” You smile.

 

“You say that as if you aren’t one.” 

 

“Ass extraordinaire, I am, but a pain I am not,” you reply childishly. When John leans back, dramatizing an appreciation you know he has, you tense as your cheeks heat. Rolling your eyes in response to his dramatic antics is your only saving grace.

 

“That is an extraordinary ass,” he says, humming. You snort and nudge him in the ribs and he laughs and suddenly you’re a lot closer, you think. You can smell the cologne on his neck and the product in his hair. When you look at his face you can see the blue of his eyes and the mole on his cheek you traced one hot day in your room by the cool of an oscillating fan. 

 

“You’re an ass,” you say, turning away from him and walking ahead to get a seat beside Rose by the play area Dirk and Jane were playing tag in. 

 

He laughs again. You can tell he’s feeling smug about something. It radiates off him in his comfortable slouch beside you, hand close to brushing the nape of your neck. You sigh out a breath. Rose looks at you. She’s smug too. You’re in the middle of a smug sandwich and it tastes like an embarrassment you feel odd to enjoy.

 

> **2:12PM**

 

The kids play for a while, finding temporary friends as kids do, and you can’t help but snap a picture or two. Or more. You’re only marginally aware that your face is lit up watching your son make friends, a facade you created for him breaking away so that he has some sort of normality that isn’t a fault of your age and inexperience. 

 

It’s odd, seeing him socialize without you to hide behind. And you think it better for him, watching him grin at a boy who lends him his soccer ball. If you continued the way you did, he probably wouldn’t have been able to be so expressive. Rather than guilt, though, you are immensely happy and roll your eyes at Rose who nudges you with a waggle of her brows.    
  
“Our family is so gay,” she says, and you laugh, brows furrowed in disbelief because you know what she’s getting at.    
  
“I thought we weren’t going to be doing the whole compulsory sexuality thing,” you tease, knowing that she’s joking.    
  
“I said I’m not going to have heterosexuality taught as a default, which you also agreed with. Being open-minded about Dirk’s choices and childhood crushes is completely different.” She winks. Her phone buzzes and she looks at it before sighing. “Besides: women are a nightmare.” 

 

“You say that because you’re not getting any, despite being in a long-term relationship,” you point, and at this point John quirks a confused brow at your conversation and you shrug at him, not minding if he listens in. 

 

“She wants to go out tonight. Do you know what tonight is?” You shrug at her this time, and stretch out your legs with a yawn.

  
“Nope,” you drawl, leaning back. “I know it’s not your anniversary. That’s in May.”

 

“It’s the grand opening of  _ Papillon _ -”

 

“And you lost me at ‘fancy restaurant I can hardly afford’,” you interrupt, though you only do it so she doesn’t overthink how she is totally getting proposed to tonight. “Can I instead get ‘over-analyzing magazine editors of the 21st century’ for 200?”

 

She swats your chest,  _ hard _ , and without a binder it  _ kills _ but she defuses and it’s almost worth it. 

 

(Not really, you think, the meat of your chest feeling as if it is going to bruise. That could be your own dramatics feeling that for you though.)

 

“Should we head back so Rose can get ready for her date?” John chips in and you nod.   
  
“Rose has to get the kids some ice cream first,” you say, “ _ As she promised _ ,” you also add pointedly, not wanting to have left the house in the first place. Oh well. “Then we can go.”

  
She nods, distracted, but not so distressed anymore, and stands to call back the kids. You watch Dirk wave goodbye to the boy with the ball as his hand is held by Jane who tugs him gently away. They whisper, childish secrets and silly jokes that make Dirk laugh. 

 

Maybe going outside wasn’t so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Can smell the lies on me, huh?”_  
>   
>  “ _ **Smells like vanilla and stupidity. Hurry up and let yourself be happy like the rest of us.**_ ”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _CW:_** Vague Descriptions of Being Pregnant and (Very) Vague Body References (in regards to the assumed inherent femininity of a trans pre-T pregnant body)

 

> **2:56PM**

 

You get home and Jane and Dirk are matching messes of ice-cream-splattered shirt fronts. It’d be cuter if you didn’t have to carry Dirk back home, your own shirt being soaked through with the cold dairy sweet. Jane seemed content in holding John’s hand and he smiles at you, smug. Bastard.

 

“Run a bath to get cleaned up before dinner, kay, kiddo?” you say as you kick the door closed behind you all and put him down. He nods and rushes to the bathroom while Rose escapes to yours to ready herself. It’s not unusual for her to take your ensuite and you were in the midst of suggesting for her to do just that anyway. Kanaya comes at five-thirty.

 

“You want Jane cleaned up too? She can hop in the bath after Dirk,” you offer, heading into Rose’s room to swipe a shirt. She locked you out of yours. Probably to worry without your meddling.

 

“Is that okay? I had some spare clothes for her in case this happened. She’s...adventurous,” he says, a tired admittance that you understand. Dirk isn’t adventurous really. Not in the sense that you know John refers to. But he will take apart things that can be taken apart just to make a mess when he tries to rebuild them. At least it doesn’t end up in stains. Often.

 

“It’s fine.” You wave. As he takes the clothes out of the little bag he brought with him, you ask, “You’re passed the awkward bathing stage, aren’t you?”

 

“Not really, honestly,” he says with a nervous laugh, “I’d assume it’s different if they’re your own kid but also aside from that Jane is fidgety and I don’t know if I’m cleaning her right.”

 

It’s your turn to laugh and you collect two towels from the linen cupboard.

 

“I’ll teach you, okay?” you say. “After Dirk.”

 

And then you disappear into the bathroom and Dirk is already knee-deep in bubbles. You sigh, fond, and roll up the sleeves of Rose’s shirt up your shoulders.

 

Bathing him is easy, though when he first arrived it was hard for you to figure out. You worried about anatomical things, what you’re going to do when he hits school, and then puberty. A lot of your worries centralized on the fact that you aren’t exactly the model father society expects, not in the mentality and certainly not in the physicality.

 

You think of the time you were a more quiet person, the confidence to speak up for yourself a lot more coming as you further along your pregnancy you got. Your doctor was amazing, and still is as you still visit him when you need to, especially considering how much of an asshole you were. You skipped appointments, demanded he do something about your transition - not that he really could, being only a general practitioner and not a psychologist or an endocrinologist.

 

You planned to start hormone treatment before you found out. You had planned for years, since you were fourteen, to start treatment. ‘When I’m 16, I’ll start’ you told yourself, and slowly it was put off in favor of appearances. As accepting as your friends and some of your family are, back then it wasn’t just them you had to face. Your school only did so much to help you along.

 

As soon as you had Dirk, you planned to start. No procrastinating. During the period where you had to be reassessed by your assigned shrink - checking to see if you were serious despite having a child - you changed so much. You dieted and exercised, to naturally masculinize the soft body you acquired while with child, and you trained your own voice with the help of Rose calling you out on the diction of some words while you forced your voice to deepen.

 

God, your life was a struggle for some. But Dirk - you think it over while you scrub his hair, watching his nose scrunch as suds ran down his face - Dirk made things better. Makes it better. His smile helped and still helps you through tough times. You love your kid so much, your chest could burst. He’s not your first love but he’s certainly topping up to be the truest and with all the happiness he has given you you damn sure hope he has a lot coming right back.

 

“All done, bumhead,” you say, rinsing the conditioner from his hair. “Go turn the heater on in your room. I’m washing up Jane next.”

 

He nods and runs off, towel wrapped around his shoulders like an oversized cape. You stand from your kneel beside the bath and peek out, nodding at John. He brings Jane to you, and before he has a chance to awkwardly skip out you grab the collar of his shirt and drag him in.

 

“You’re not skipping out on this class, bub,” you say, poking a finger into his chest. You turn to Jane. “Okay, girly, let’s get you washed up!”

 

You can immediately tell what John means when he says she’s fidgety. She doesn’t like any soap suds at all, not like how Dirk does. She grumbles and splashes about, only making more suds appear, so you scoop them up and drop them on the drain in the middle of the floor.

 

“Alright then, I’m getting rid of them. Just hold on tight to the ducky and we’ll get rid of this mess,” you tell her. And she listens. And settles. And you murmur praises in that silly voice you spoke in for Dirk when he was a baby and she giggles and splashes you but this time because she’s having fun.

 

You lather the soap in your hands, just so it spreads but not so it froths, and wash her hair and back. You notice a rash on the back of her neck as you rinse it off.

 

“Hey John?”

 

“Hmm. Yeah- sorry- what’s up?” He seems distracted and you shrug, not wanting to press for answers and then overthink them.

 

“Has Jane got eczema?”

 

“Uh, I dunno. Jade and I never had it.”

 

“Well I got some lotions that Dirk doesn’t use anymore since his is settled. I’ll give you some.”

 

You rinse off the rest and grab the towel from the rack.

 

“Okay, kiddo, you’re set. Now your uncle can give you a proper bath, hopefully,” you muse, brow raised at John who still looks pensive. You don’t frown like you feel your mouth wants to. “Let’s get you changed and then maybe I can cook up something for you guys before you leave.”

 

She whines at the mention of their departure but is soon distracted by the warmth of a towel and the processed promise of food. Kids.

 

“Get her dressed. I’ll try and find something that isn’t take out,” you tell John, nudging him out of his reverie.

 

“You’re really good at this, you know?” he says, following you out.

 

“Good at what?” You’re sifting through the cupboards, considering what you can whip up on short notice.

 

“Kids. You used to say how you hate them but you just- You looked so calm.” His hand meets the back of his neck as his cheeks tinge pink. “It was nice. How you looked.”

 

“Oh.”

 

A smart answer as you hide your head behind the pantry door.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The silence after makes you want to scream into it, release the emotion building in your throat as your face darkens and you feel dizzy.

 

Well.

 

 

> **4:42PM**

 

Rose nurses a glass of wine, only being able to do so because she’s drinking it out of a dark colored tumbler. You watch her carefully as the kids eat the coconut curry you made. (It’s one of the few dishes you’ve ever made where Dirk eats all of the vegetables and likes it. Jane seems to take to it too.)

 

She’s dressed for her date, her makeup beside her so she can ready that next. She doesn’t want her makeup to smudge or run so she saves it for last. You’ve also helped with her hair, having teased and hairsprayed the loose curls into something resembling a stylishly messy updo. It looks nice, if you do say so yourself.

 

You sip at your coffee, intending to stay up a while to finalize some plans for an exhibit that clashes with the ‘Carols by Candlelight’ event you hold every Christmas at the studio. It’s cooling in your hand, no longer lukewarm, but it’ll still do even if it could be better. You’d decided to not have dinner with the rest, leaving your own time to eat when it’s time for a midnight snack.

 

John has Jane in his lap, coaxing her into finishing her food.

 

“Just another bite, Jane. Only one more.”

 

You look over at him, eyes bleary before you rub them under your reading glasses. She fidgets, saying she’s full, but you know it’s because she wants to play with Dirk again before they leave. He’s already finished, drinking his cup of milk while he draws with the TV on.

 

“We can get a cake on the way back home. Share it with great-nanna?”

 

The bribery works and you snort as you retreat back into paperwork. You time the amount of time that passes by each song that finishes in your earphones and also by general observation. By the time Rose starts on her makeup, you figure it’s five. Dirk shifts on the floor to make room for Jane while John packs up their things.

 

He brings over the dishes he and the kids used and with a questioning look he’s answered by Rose who tells him to just dump them in the dishwasher. He has the decency to rinse before doing so. You don’t want to clean out rice grains from it again. They’re small and a pain in the ass.

 

“We’re gonna get going to catch the 5:20 train. Takes us about 15 minutes to walk here so headstart, right?” John says. You nod and stand, following him to the door. He calls for Jane who reluctantly jumps her way over. Dirk is close behind. They’re speaking in Children’s Gibberish, or it could be underdeveloped pronunciation, and by the tone it’s probably either a complaint or an apology about Jane leaving.

 

“It was fun,” you say, stuffing your hands in your pockets and rocking on the balls of your feet.

 

“If getting dogpiled by 2 kids was fun then sure.” John laughs and you share some of it, your lips quirked in a smirk.

 

“I thought it was hilarious,” you tell him and he nudges you softly as he passes you by to open the door.

 

“We should do this again sometime. I’ll by the ice cream,” he says.

 

“Always helpful,” you tease. He grins and you laugh. “See y’all Monday, then.”

 

“Yep, see you then.”

 

There’s an awkward moment after John tells Jane to press the button for the elevator. The floor plan has it so that the lift is directly outside your door and that leaves for them to wait outside it as well. The awkwardness follows from this as they wait for it to come up and you polite wait for them to leave.

 

You’re leaning on the doorframe and Dirk is standing by the other side when the elevator dings. They smile and wave-

 

“Oh, damn, sorry about that,” John apologizes to someone on their way out.

 

“No, it is quite alright,” a familiar and articulated voice says.

 

“Kanaya?”

 

“Oh, hello Dave,” she greets with a smile, stepping out of the way and leaning forward to ghost-kiss your cheek. She kneels to do the same for Dirk. “Hello, Dirk.”

 

“Hi, Aunty Kan!”

 

“And you two are out...why?”

 

“Sorry, they were just seeing us off,” John says, another apology as he shuffles passed with Jane in front. “We’re just on our way out - train to catch - but it’s nice finally seeing you! I’m John, a friend of Dave and Rose.” He shifts his bag and moves to hold Jane’s hand with his non-dominant one, holding the other out.

 

Kanaya takes his hand with an amused look: “ _The_ John? If true, I have heard much about you.”

 

He laughs nervously. “Hopefully good. I’m sorry to just leave it at that; gotta get this one to bed otherwise her mom will...sternly tell me off. Have a good date night!”

 

With that he leaves. Dirk retreats back inside. Kanaya still looks amused and now you have another flighty broad to discuss your former love with.

 

“How much has Rose told you?” you ask her as she follows you in. You close the door behind her.

 

“Not everything, but much,” she confesses. “I understand quite a lot now.”

 

“Like?”

 

“He is not so bad looking, is he?””””

 

You don’t answer her. Silence is enough of an answer, especially judging by the small smile she has as she graces your lounge room. Rose is finished, and looks appropriately shocked at the early arrival.

 

“Kanaya! I thought you were coming later?”

 

“I planned to surprise you, _chéri,_ ” she replies, greeting Rose with a kiss on the cheek. “I did not inform you of all my plans; _Papillon_ is but part of the evening I have arranged.”

 

“Ah…” Rose says weakly. She’s overthinking again.

 

“Do you mind if we were to leave early? I can certainly wait, though if it is a matter of getting ready you look absolutely beautiful.” Kanaya smiles and your brows raise because, damn, that’s laying it on thick but being really smooth at it. You can see Rose swooning in her eyes but still saving face by standing upright and taking Kanaya’s arm.

 

“We can leave,” she says simply, probably because if she were to say anything it would come out as an undignified stutter.

 

“Have fun, you kids,” you call to them. Rose gives you the finger behind Kanaya’s back and you bark out a laugh before going back to work. Dirk is studying in front of the TV.

 

It’s quiet.

 

You wish John (and Jane!) were still around.

 

 

> **8:50PM**

 

It takes you a bit but Dirk is finally asleep, your paperwork is complete, and you’re so unfortunately awake. You can’t sleep. It’s half the fault of the coffee and your brain having been overworked to the point of hyperawareness.

 

The apartment is already clean and the most interesting thing that’s on at the moment is a rerun of Star Wars. You’d watch it but you can’t pay attention to it long enough. Admittedly, you’re bored with no way to alleviate it. You glance at your phone often, hoping for something to pass you by as a distraction, but nothing happens.

 

You groan and roll over on the couch. You room is too cold and you don’t want to steal the heater out of Dirk’s room. And you certainly don’t want to crash Rose’s, her room being a clothing tip from her scavenging for something to wear. You never intrude on her space, otherwise you will clean it and she will get pissed about her system of madness being disturbed.

 

Your phone buzzes and you snatch it up quickly like communication with the outside world will disappear from your place of exile. Dramatics aside, it’s only Rose saying she will be home on Monday so you have all of Sunday with...just Dirk. Not that it’s a bad thing but sometimes adult company helps in these times of non-productivity.

 

_'so did it happen?’_

 

You wait for a reply text, reaching into your bowl of popcorn beside you as you recline into the couch.

 

_'Stop texting me now.’_

 

She replies with text and also a picture of her flipping you off. Or so you assume at first. It’s her fourth finger, actually. And there’s a ring on it. You grin.

 

_'who said not to worry again?’_

 

_'I told you to stop texting. I will be sure to screech to the high heavens when I finally see you and Dirk.’_

 

_'i’m obviously the best man. man of honor? idk how it works for you ladies and your gal pal joinings.’_

 

_'Dave. I said to stop texting me. Because Kanaya has gone to the bathroom and after we leave this restaurant I fully intend repay the happiness that is overflowing from me at this very moment.’_

 

_'eww tmi didn’t need to know about your bits cuz’_

 

_'Fuck off, Dave. x’_

 

_'hook in there rosie *thumbs up emoji*’_

 

The conversation lasted only five minutes and you’re bored again. But you’re happy. Still not tired, however, and you’re back to being slightly grumpy about it. Texting someone does leave you with the idea of just talking to someone else but you’re not sure who.

 

Scrolling through your contacts you come upon a name and, with a pull of your lips, you suck in a breath and sigh. Might as well.

 

_'yo you up?’_

 

 

> **10:11PM**

 

“Ew, Zi, what is with you women and loving to divulge your sex lives to mine innocent soul?” You laugh. There’s a cackle on the other end.

 

“ _Oh, shut up! I thought we were catching up on non-work-related things?_ ”

 

“Yeah, but we didn’t have to head into the red light district on What’s-Going-On-In-Our-Lives City.”

 

“ _You know me and red._ ”

 

“A little too much, thanks. Still think your shit is just that with a left side of bull.”

 

“ _Ouch, Strider, addressing your boss this way? Tut tut. I could fire you for insubordination, y’know?_ ”

 

“Ah, but see, then who would be the office eye candy?”

 

“ _Your rump is rather plush._ ”

 

“Plushest. You wouldn’t dare fire me.”

 

“ _Maybe demote you._ ”

 

“Please, you need me for all the paperwork you don’t want to do because you don’t like the voice of the computer dictator for everything.”

 

“ _He sounds so_ **_boring_ **.”

 

“Excellent segue though into asking whether or not you got my email with the pre-Christmas exhibition plans. So, did you get them?”

 

“ _Yeah. It should be alright, and you can still be off call for your b-day weekend._ ”

 

“Sweetness. Would you be coming?”

 

“ _I’ll drop by yours on Sunday. Saturday is a polite rejection of being around a bunch of lil’ kids. They smell nasty._ ” She laughs. “ _And you have to deal with them while their parents just skip off for a few hours._ ”

 

“And that’s why we’re going to a playland. Fuck all of that.”

 

“ _Amen._ ” You snort. “ _You’ll at least have that guy, right? The one that Rose said you’re going all goo-goo eyes over?_ ”

 

You groan. “Does everyone know my biz?”

 

“Only the people who like to get the latest and greatest on this drama-train you’ve been leading into a brick wall, like, all of your life.”

 

“Performance art.”

 

“ _Ha, whatever. I’ve known you for years, Strider. Don’t play ignorant. You’re bad at it._ ”

 

“Can smell the lies on me, huh?”

 

“ _Smells like vanilla and stupidity. Hurry up and let yourself be happy like the rest of us._ ”

 

“I-” You’re about to finish with ‘am happy’ but your phone buzzes in your hand.

 

Caller ID says ‘John’.

 

“ _You take that; I’m hitting the sack. Not everyone can be a lovesick insomniac._ ”

 

“I’m not-!”

 

“ _Later, coolkid!_ ”

 

Terezi hangs up and you’re left to stare at your phone that, with one final ring if John sticks around long enough, will eventually stop buzzing.

 

You pick up.

 

“Isn’t it passed your bedtime, Egbert?”

 

 _“Um, yeah, it should be running properly. That screen is just an update screen and will go away soon._ ”

 

“Ooh, damn dude, escape phonecall? Who is it?”

 

“ _Uh-_ ” He pauses. “ _I understand it’s his grandmother’s setup but if he just updates it then that should at least help it run a bit faster._ ”

 

“El, Em, Ay, Oh, dude, Nanna Jackie?” You laugh at him. “What’d she do this time?”

 

“ _I build it to his specifications, I don’t know why- Gimme a sec._ ” You hear shuffling and a door being closed and he sighs. “ _Gran is just being...difficult. The older you get with no personal prospects in sight, the quicker grandparents apparently seem to be dying._ ” He grunts. “ _Jade called and said she met someone so now she’s turning on me. Things were easier when she told me to focus on studying._ ”

 

“Well, I can keep you company. Heads up though, I was just about to go to sleep.”

 

Lie.

 

“ _You’re the best, Dave._ ” You smile.

 

“I know. Even more because if you’re on your phone with me, you just fed poor Janey to the dogs, dude. You’re the worst.”

 

He laughs. “Tell me about it.”

 

You proceed to tease him, making fun of all the ways he’s the absolute worst.

 

(“ _Sorry Dave, but fruits just don’t go on pizza unless it’s a dessert pizza. _ ”

 

 _“What are fucking tomatoes, John?!”_ )

 

And soon it goes into a silence. Comfortable. He has since escaped to his room and tells you about the dumb things he sees on Facebook and you’re finally drifting off, your phone beside you on loudspeaker.

 

When John suggests he hang up you groan out a protest, mumbling for him to stay on as white noise until you go to sleep.

 

He laughs at you, says that you have a movie playing in the background that he can hear. You groan again.

 

He stays on.

 

You drift again, and this time your sleep is only slightly deeper than the first time he says he’s going to hang up. You’re at the point of not being able to grunt out a response, a slow hum leaving you in acceptance.

 

His laugh is softer and you imagine the soft touch of someone carding their fingers through your hair.

 

“ _Good night, Dave_.”

 

You curl on the couch, dreams catching you in your lovesick longing you want to push aside because it’s so overwhelmingly bright and sits heavy in your throat leaving you breathless.

  
There’s the stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is delayed - really can't tell my time for shit tbh - but B is becoming a handful. Two, actually. He's big now and he smiles almost all the time when he isn't crying for 'bot-bot'. But hey, I love his screaming face.
> 
> I'd like to give the special-est of shoutouts to VanillaCorpse, a lovely reader whose paragraphs of fan-excitement made me grin from ear to ear. Had to brag to my mom, my dude. 
> 
> I'm typing this with my kid in my lap so a quick and obligatory request for comments and kudos. _(I haven't tried it yet but there is a recommendation for[this browser addition](http://ravenel.tumblr.com/post/156555172141) for AO3 comments so break it in here, maybe? lol)_ Sending love to y'all for a lil bit of sugar back.
> 
> If you're interested in following along the writing process or just like spoilers, I tag this fic 'Trans Dad Dave Fic' and you can find that tag [on my blog](http://robotentacles.tumblr.com/tagged/trans-dad-dave-fic). You can also tag me directly [@robotentacles](http://robotentacles.tumblr.com/) for anything you want me to see related to or that reminds you of this AU.
> 
> Anyway, y'all have a good day and I'll update hopefully in the next month! x


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